by Morgan Rice
“Is that it?” Vivian said. “That’s all you know?”
By now, the other cheerleader girls had noticed Vivian and the altercation with Jojo. Girls who had been in her gang for years began to crowd forward to see what was going on. Each of them was different, each having been transformed into a vampire. As a gang of humans they had been vicious, spoiled, and mean; as a group of vampires they were even more deadly.
“What’s your problem, Vivian?” one of the girls said, flashing her narrowed eyes at her.
It was Jojo who spoke. “She’s being a total bitch. It’s, like, not my fault if I don’t know where Blake is.”
The girl rolled her eyes.
“You’re still going on about Blake? God, Vivian, you’re even more boring as a vampire than you were as a human.”
Vivian felt her anger swell. But she couldn’t fight the girls. They were as strong as her, and she was outnumbered.
“You know,” Jojo said, folding her arms and cocking her head to the side, “I don’t think you’re the leader anymore, Vivian. I think we can get along just fine without you.”
Vivian stomped forward, her hands balled into fists as though ready to strike.
“Good,” she spat, viciously. “I never liked you anyway.”
She turned her eyes up to the rest of the girls watching on.
“That goes for all of you!” she screamed.
The cheerleaders scoffed and, shaking their heads in disgust, turned away from the former queen bee.
“You are totally not being part of the vampire army,” Jojo said over her shoulder as she followed the other girls sauntering out of the gym.
Vivian was left standing there fuming, watching the retreating backs of the girls she’d thought had been her friends. Just before Jojo disappeared out the door, Vivian’s rage bubbled over. She flew forward and wrenched a piece of wood off the beam then raced toward Jojo.
She grabbed her hair and stabbed her through the back, right into the heart.
“The thing about being the leader is,” Vivian said in Jojo’s ear, “there’s always going to be someone trying to stab you in the back.”
Vivian wrenched the shard of wood out of Jojo and the girl crumbled to dust.
The other girls stared back, shocked.
Vivian smiled. There would be time to put them all in line. But for now, she had other business to tend to.
She stepped over the girl’s remains, smashed the door, and stepped out into the open, lifting up into the air and determined, at any cost, to complete her search for Blake.
CHAPTER TEN
As Kyle paced up the steps of the church, he sensed this was it. He’d been to several churches in the area, but something told him this would be the right one. The windows were all boarded up with plywood, and he could sense that evil had visited this place. He could almost smell the girl in the air.
He found the door of the church open and scoffed to himself. Warmth and light spilled out of the crack, sliding down the steps like honey. The beauty of it was lost on Kyle. The tranquility of church was just something else for him to destroy. He’d left his teenage vampire army behind to continue the rampage he had started, and would return for them just as soon as he found out where Scarlet Paine was.
Kyle barged his way through the doors, making them screech.
The place was candlelit. Light danced off the ceiling from the little flames being stirred by the breeze. The church was mainly empty, but a handful of people were dotted around in the pews, praying or thumbing through the dog-eared Bibles. They glanced up at Kyle as he thundered past, bolting down the aisle. Some stood, sensing the danger like a sixth sense, and made their way out of the church.
Kyle stormed the stage and stood at the altar, glaring down at the few people left in the pews.
“Where is she? Where is Scarlet Paine?” he bellowed.
The people who just moments earlier were basking in the calmness of the church’s atmosphere were suddenly thrust abruptly back to reality. Kyle reveled in their frightened gazes.
Some nearer the doors began running down the aisle and back out into the cool evening, making the candles quivers as they passed. Those at the front seemed too scared to move.
Kyle leaned down and leered in the face of an older gentleman, whose crinkled eyes creased with terror.
“Where’s Scarlet Paine?” Kyle demanded.
“I don’t know who that is,” the old man replied in a cracked, aged voice.
“Who is the priest here?” Kyle asked.
“Father McMullen.”
Just then, Kyle heard a shuffling noise from his right. He looked right and saw the confession booth. The curtains were drawn.
Leaving the old man trembling in his seat, Kyle thundered over and ripped the curtain clean off its rail, the heavy fabric tearing from the force. A little old lady was sitting in the booth, looking like the last person in the world who had any sins to confess.
“Don’t hurt me,” she cried, holding her withered hands up for protection.
Kyle snarled and ripped the curtain from the other booth. And there sat the priest.
“Father McMullen,” Kyle stated.
He leaned into the booth and grabbed the man by his robes. In one fluid movement, he hauled him out the booth and set him on his feet in front of him. The old woman scampered away, joining the old man whom Kyle had terrorized moments before. The two shuffled along the aisle as fast as their old legs could carry them, crying out in watery voices that they would be calling the police. Kyle smirked, thinking how little help they would be.
Before him, Father McMullen trembled. His robe was all bunched up around his ears in Kyle’s fists.
“Brother,” he said, “I can help you. Whatever evil lurks within you, you can find redemption here. God will forgive you.”
Kyle gritted his teeth.
“It’s not God I want,” he spat. “It’s the girl. Scarlet Paine.”
A flicker of recognition passed through Father McMullen’s eyes.
“You know her,” Kyle stated, catching on immediately.
“I…” the priest stuttered. “I… do. The girl is troubled. What do you want with her?”
Kyle scoffed. “Troubled? You can say that again. The girl is monster. A demon. One of Satan’s angels sent straight to the Earth from Hell.”
Father McMullen nodded. “I know. She has been to this place.” He gestured to the boarded up windows. “She was the one who destroyed the windows.” He turned his anguished gaze back to Kyle. “The same darkness that lurks in her lurks within you too. But you want to destroy. Why? What do you want with her?”
His eyes were as round as full moons. Kyle took great delight in the fear he read in them.
He let go of the priest and smoothed down the front of his robes. Father McMullen stood there looking dumbfounded, as though torn between whether to speak or run or just break down and give himself up to the evil that seemed to land on his doorstep.
Kyle smiled and showed off his incisors.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he said.
The priest crossed himself.
“Forgive me, Holy Father,” he whispered, his fingers skimming across the rosary beads around his neck. “Forgive me for the sin I am about to commit but you have given me no signs.”
Tears glittered in his eyes. Kyle folded his arms impatiently.
Father McMullen’s face had turned completely white, blanched of all color. He kept muttering under his breath, begging God to forgive him, to guide him, to not test his faith in this manner. Finally, he spoke, his words coming out in staccato sobs.
“The girl’s mother is looking for her. She will lead you to her.”
The moment the words left his lips, Father McMullen broke down. He sank to his knees and tears shuddered through him, making his shoulders shake. Kyle narrowed his eyes, disgusted in the outpouring.
“Who is the girl’s mother?” he demanded.
“Her name is Caitlin Paine,”
Father McMullen said, shaking his head, let his tears fall freely. “She’s a scholar. The last I heard she was going to see a professor friend in New York City. Aidan. A professor at…Columbia.”
Kyle felt triumphant. At last, some useful information. A name and a location. A direct link to Scarlet Paine. Find the mother, find the daughter.
He looked down at the weeping heap of Father McMullen.
“Well, Father, you’ve been most helpful,” he said.
He lowered himself into a crouch and held his hand out to shake Father McMullen’s. The priest looked up through his tear-stained eyes, his cheeks red and blotchy. His big, wide eyes bulged out of his bone-white face.
“Come on now,” Kyle said. “Shake on it, won’t you? You’ve done me a huge favor. I’m sure He up there is very pleased with your Christian behavior.”
The priest seemed paralyzed by fear. Finally, he reached out a shaking hand and slipped the clammy flesh into Kyle’s open palm.
At once, Kyle tightened his hand around the priest’s, so hard and fast that every bone in the man’s hand was crushed instantly. Crack crack crack. He screamed out in pain and peered up at Kyle.
“I gave you what you wanted!” he cried. “Why are you hurting me?”
Kyle looked down and licked his teeth. With a shrug he said, “Just for fun.”
As he sank his fangs into Father McMullen’s neck, the church echoed and echoed with his screams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Deep underground, Lore, Octal, and the Immortalists trudged through the debris of the destroyed castle, heading in the direction of the caves. The smell of airplane fuel and smoke wafted behind them, a pungent reminder of the ordeal they had endured.
They reached the jagged mouth of the dank caves. The silence from within them was thick, almost tangible. The only sound was the steady trickle of water coming from far away.
A sensation inside Lore told him that Scarlet and Sage were not to be found. He pushed it away and gestured for the Immortalists to enter the cave.
“Search everywhere,” he said, feeling a wave of desperation inside his gullet. “Do not stop until you find the girl and my cousin.”
The small army began filing in, weaving past the stalactites that hung from the ceilings. The rock face was damp and slippery underfoot.
Lore shivered as he watched them go. It was cold in the caves and there was an eerie vibe, like the very stone held secrets. Lore started when Octal came up beside him. The burn on his face looked angry, the skin beneath puckered. The sight of it turned Lore’s stomach.
“You lead them well,” Octal said, his transparent eyes locked on Lore’s.
Lore turned his face away and trained his gaze ahead, squinting through the gloom at the milling figures.
“I lead them because someone must,” Lore replied, his comment slightly barbed.
“You’re disappointed in my leadership?” Octal asked.
Finally, Lore willed himself to look at him.
“You let them get away,” he said, his voice cold and curt. “Sage and Scarlet. We had them in our midst. We had them right where we needed them. And you let them get away.”
Octal loomed down over Lore, his presence imposing.
“What is meant to be will be, Lore,” he said, calmly. “It is written in the stars.”
Lore said nothing. He turned his gaze away again and peered back out at the returning Immortalists.
“There’s nobody here,” one of the men said, drawing up in front of Octal and Lore.
Lore had known it the second he’d stepped foot in the cave. It had been too silent, as silent as death.
In that moment, Lore’s frustration reached boiling point. He pummeled his fist against the rock face. In his anger he was ready to turn on his leader and blame him publicly for letting Sage slip away. But then another voice broke out, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait!” the voice cried.
Lore looked behind him, sucking the blood from his bruised fist, and saw a raven-haired woman with glittering blue eyes. She was beautiful, with the palest skin Lore had ever seen.
“Look here,” she said, pointing to the floor.
She was addressing her words directly to him, not to Octal, and so Lore obeyed. He frowned and walked over to the woman. He looked at what she was indicating to him. It was a patch of wet rock and some droplets of blood.
“What is that?” he muttered beneath his breath.
Lore crouched down and craned his head to examine the strange image from a different angle. All at once, the sight of an arrow of blood piercing a heart of tears materialized before his eyes.
He darted up to his feet.
“They were here,” he said, addressing the crowd behind him.
The raven-haired girl looked up at him from her crouched position.
“They must have escaped,” she said, touching her fingers lightly to the blood splatters. “But only just. The blood is still warm.”
She held her hand up to Lore, as though inviting him to feel for himself. He gazed at her white skin and the crimson red staining her finger tips. He felt a strange desire to reach out and caress her hand with his. But he fought the feeling away and, instead of touching the blood, he grasped her hand in his and hauled her to her feet beside him.
The woman looked a little flushed, almost as though embarrassed by the way she had invited him to touch her. Lore didn’t look at her as he spoke.
“Sage is still alive,” he said.
Octal paced over and placed a hand firmly on Lore’s shoulder.
“He’s your cousin,” he said. “You will be able to sense him.”
“Not across the water,” Lore replied quickly.
The water acted as a barrier, blocking one being from sensing another. It was why they built this place on an island in the first place.
But no sooner had the words left Lore’s lips than another thought struck him.
“Of course!” he cried, as all the pieces began to fit into place in his mind. “Scarlet took Sage across the water because that is the only way to stop me from tracking them.”
The crowds began to murmur, excited by what the news could mean. That perhaps, at the end of this fateful night, the girl would be found and sacrificed so that the Immortalist race could live another day.
A man with bushy sideburns and thick, dark eyebrows spoke up.
“But that doesn’t exactly narrow it down, does it?” he said. “We’re surrounded by water in three directions. There’s no way we’d be able to search the entire ocean for them.”
Lore nodded and paced back and forth, wracking his brains. Where would that stupid little vampire girl take Sage?
He shook his head, disgusted once again by her human emotions. Love seemed like such an unpleasant thing to Lore. It certainly had made his cousin stupid.
“Wait,” he said, finally catching onto something, something that his mother had said. Something about love. Love and family. “I don’t need to track Sage. I need to track the girl’s parents. They were trying to get to her too, weren’t they?”
The black-haired woman narrowed her eyes and tipped her head to the air. “I can smell a human from a mile away.” She snarled as she spat out the word.
A sinister smile spread across Lore’s lips.
“Then come with me,” he said. “Lead us to the parents. And they, in turn, will lead us straight to their precious daughter.”
The woman grinned and leaped into the air, darting out of the cave on the current of the wind. The others followed behind.
Lore followed them to the mouth of the cave, but stopped on the precipice. He looked down at the swirling waves, then up to the stream of Immortalists illuminated by the moonlight. It was a beautiful sight. He smiled to himself, realizing that the human weakness for love and emotion was to be their downfall. The Immortalists would live forever. They would reign over the Earth.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Octal’s voice came from beside him. “Our destiny is wr
itten in the stars. What is meant to be will be.”
Lore looked left at the great leader, standing so tall and noble. Despite the scars running down his face, he still had poise and dignity. He was everything Lore wanted to be one day.
“You were right,” Lore said. “And I was foolish to question you.”
Octal nodded, satisfied, and began to pace away.
“Wait,” Lore said, feeling panic bloom in his chest. “Aren’t you going to fly with us tonight?”
Octal turned back and looked Lore up and down.
“I believe this is your battle to lead, Lore,” he said. “I know you won’t let me down.”
Lore swallowed and watched as his leader disappeared into the shadows. He looked back up at the black sky, and the shapes of the Immortalists gliding through it. Power surged through him as he accepted that they were now his army to lead. Tonight, he would lead them into battle. Tonight, they would be victorious.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Scarlet’s sobs tore through her. She clutched Sage tightly to her chest as she flew through the air. His eyes were closed and she could only just feel his soft heartbeat where he was pressed into her.
Her arms ached but there was no way she was stopping. Something was pushing her onwards, as though some force were drawing her toward the tower she’d seen in her locket.
She didn’t know how long she’d been flying. It felt like forever. Time had become a blur of fear, grief, and pain. And worse than everything was the deep gnawing sensation in her stomach, the sensation that told her she needed to feed. She was craving blood and it was agonizing. She didn’t want to be a soulless demon, feasting on raw flesh like a cannibal, but the need inside of her was one she knew she couldn’t ignore. She would have to feed, and soon.
Desperately she looked around her, trying to see whether there was anywhere to land and hunt. She felt guilty at the thought of setting Sage down just so she could eat, but the vampire she’d become was as demanding as a petulant child.